


Step Through Doors (it's always forward)

by GoldenFalls



Category: Attack the Block (2011)
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon, Relationships Changing Context, Relationships Formed in Strife, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 20:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17049833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenFalls/pseuds/GoldenFalls
Summary: Moses, newly released from juvie, meets up with Sam at her apartment.





	Step Through Doors (it's always forward)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ninety6tears](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninety6tears/gifts).



Moses faced the door. The layout of this hall was the same; epoxy floors, two-tone walls, a double run of lights. But all the small details were unfamiliar. His uncle had told him which flat they'd been moved to, but Moses still only had the key for his old place. He shifted on his feet for a moment before knocking.

He listened close, but all he could hear was a muffled telly program coming from down the hall. Angrily, he pounded on the door, but there was no sign of movement from inside. Slamming his his hands flat against the door one more time, he let his heavy breathing move through him. The hallway lights went out as his breathing kicked up, pushing off from the door and striding down the hall.

* * *

The keys clattered in her empty apartment as she tossed them in the dish. Sam groaned as she stepped into her apartment and ran her hand through her hair. Her shift had stretched out into an unintelligible pattern of crisis, work, screaming patient, repeat. She sank into her couch and tipped her head back, letting her chaotic thoughts float for a moment. Her hand moved to her engagement ring, spinning it absently.

A glance at the clock showed it was she only had six hours to sleep before her shift the next day. She pushed herself out of her chair and to the kettle, setting it and then absently popping open the fridge. She was examining the choice between the day-old but half-eaten soggy curry or the edging-on-expired chicken marsala from the weekend when a knock startled her. Shutting the fridge, she walked to the door and looked through the spyhole.

Moses stood there. He glanced down the hallway before moving his hand back up to knock again when she opened the door.

"You're back!" she said, moving to the side to let him in. She hadn't seen him since court, though she knew from meetings with his friends that he was getting released this week. She hadn't realized it was coming up so soon.

He looked at her sideways through his eyes, facing forward as he stepped in and took in the room.

"I got out this morning," he said. His clothes were still stained with wear.

The silence stretched, only the rustle of clothes and the noises of citylife fading through the windows and walls contextualizing it. The day they met had been all action, moving from scene to crisis to societal chaos. She'd last seen him in court, but he still was inextricably linked to that adrenaline night, the fight. Seeing him shifting on his feet in her living room with no emergency driving them forward was surreal.

He moved to the couch, and Sam broke out of her standstill as well. "I'll go make some tea, the water's almost ready."

"Thanks," he mumbled, following her walk to the kitchen with his eyes. He looked steady, but she could see him worrying a decorative pillow between his fingers, revealing his nervous energy. She related: it was hard to know how to talk to and approach him outside of the extraordinary context in which they met.

When they were both seated on the couch, with steaming cups of tea in their hands, Moses spoke. "I'm surprised you still got a place here. Would have thought the"--he paused--"situation would've made you leave."

She swept the arm holding her tea out in an aborted gesture. "I just got the lease, and with what it costs to live in the area on my salary, it was better to just, rearrange the furniture." He raised his eyebrows. That couldn't be all there was to the story. She sighed. "The memories do...linger."

He looked down at his own hands around the warm mug. He couldn't see it, but the scar on his face was tangible, like he could feel it. Jerome, Dennis: the aliens had been predators, hunting him, but most of his nightmares featured his friends' deaths as he hesitated. "Yeah, they do."

Sam looked at him with sympathy. "It's hard to talk about. The NDAs are bad enough without the fact that the truth is--fucking aliens!" She shifted. "I know Tia's there, and Pest, but if you ever need anyone else to talk to…"

"I'm--" he started. He had tried to not think about this too much while in Feltham YOI. He had a reputation to maintain, and the gangs there to navigate. But it wasn't something he could ignore, and he didn't really want to either. "I dealt with it. Now I've got to move on."

"It's kind of hard to 'move on' from aliens murdering people," Sam said incredulously.

Moses scowled. "You're saying the other people in your life haven't moved on? The world's moved on. Their families might not have, but the world don't care about people like me or Jerome or Dennis. They're glad they don't have to deal with us."

Sam watched him as his fists balled up. "The people affected can't move on just like that. Dennis' dad keeps a vigil, and that website about the cover-up. Pest's grandma pulled him from school while he's recovering, and won't let him out. Tia's got her place on lockdown, won't turn her back to windows anymore.

"Hang on, where are you staying? With what happened to your apartment..." Sam looked concerned.

He tilted his head. "My uncle's still around," he said gruffly. "The old place got blown up, but the feds paid out to keep this quiet so he's got a new one, on the fourth floor."

She looked at the clock again, then at Moses's unsettled appearance. "Not that I don't want you here, but isn't it a bit late? On your first day back, don't you want to settle in?"

Moses looked away from the tea to out the window. "He's not in. And I don't have a key."

The sinking feeling in her stomach made her nervy. "Ah, you know." She reached out a hand and laid it on his shoulder comfortingly, and could feel his tension. "It wouldn't be too much trouble--or, the couch isn't very comfortable, but I could put you up for the night." Moses settled some, but also seemed ashamed, curling into the sofa.

"You don't have to," he said tightly.

"I want to," she said warmly. The microwave beeped and she drew her hand back and stood. "It's not much, but this chicken marsala should beat out anything you had in prison."

The hot, flavourful food grounded the moment. There might still be problems in their lives, but not immediate enough to stop them from taking the time to enjoy a meal together. The direct, life-changing goal of escaping the aliens was over, but they remained connected. Two neighbours went to sleep that night in the same flat, and when tomorrow dawned, they moved forward facing separate paths, but together.

**Author's Note:**

> I liked a lot of the same things about the movie that you expressed in your letter. It's hard thinking about what follows canon, but I tried to kind of follow through with some of the themes. I'm not the most experienced writer, but I hope I conveyed it well and that it matches your expectations and you like it!


End file.
